Page 103 of Stars in Nova

Samira studied the glowing readouts over Kisan’s shoulder as they ate.

‘Skardis,’ she mused, reading the facts. ‘A mixed planet?’

‘Arid in some parts, lush in others,’ Kisan confirmed. ‘The forests and mountainous plateaus keep the place livable, but the prairie is brutal—scorched during the day and freezing at night. It’s a farming-based economy. With enough beauty, sage bushes, incense altars, and anonymity for space hippies, roving priests, and crims on the run, who all coexist under the care of a benevolent government.’

The descent to Skardis was smooth, the Cephei’s thrusters burning bright as they entered the atmosphere.

The view below shifted, the planet revealing itself in vibrant detail. Vast stretches of arid plains stretched toward the horizon, broken by ribbons of blue where rivers snaked through the land.

Forests clustered along the foothills of towering mountain plateaus, their emerald canopies stark against the bronze mantle.

The spaceport rose from one of the larger highland cities, a sprawling hub of activity surrounded by terraced fields and scattered settlements.

As the Cephei touched down, the ship’s systems hissed and whirred, the scent of heated metal mingling with the dry air filtering in.

Kisan sent a quick message to Sax via his neural node.

Brother, we’ve landed in Dock 12. See you in ten. We dust off as soon as you arrive.

He got no response—Zilch, zero - just a static buzz.

‘Fokk,’ he cursed.

‘What?’ Samira asked, flicking him a rapid glance.

‘No answer, typical,’ he muttered, his emerald eyes narrowing. ‘He’s always late yet somehow manages to show up just in time. Probably off chasing some other crisis.’

Samira raised an eyebrow. ‘Are we waiting for him, or will we find him?’

‘We’re finding him,’ Kisan said, grabbing his gear. ‘If he’s tangled up in some shitshow, we need to untangle him. Lest he lurches onto the next one, and our mission goes tits up.’

The spaceport was a bustling hive of activity, its platforms teeming with travelers, merchants, and local workers.

The rumble of engines and the occasional burst of static from comms channels filled the air, mixing with the shouts of traders hawking wares from makeshift stalls.

The people of Skardis were a mix of hardened settlers and wandering merchants.

Their clothes reflected the planet’s extremes—layered fabrics for cold nights and lightweight but durable fabrics for scorching days. Many wore protective scarves around their necks, and goggles hung from their collars, ready to shield their eyes from the bright sunlight.

Samira’s gaze lingered on a group of children darting between the booths, their laughter carrying above the din. Nearby, a vendor sold exotic fruits, their vivid colors a distinct contrast to the muted tones of the arid surroundings.

The scent of spices and roasted meat drifted from a food stand, making her stomach rumble despite their recent meal.

Kisan’s attention snapped to one side as a disturbance rose near the platform’s edge.

A distinct growl, followed by raised voices and the thud of something heavy hitting the ground.

‘Fokk, that snarl’s too familiar. Let’s move,’ the Rider said, his tone clipped as he stalked toward the commotion.

On approach, the scene became clear.

A man in a white cassock loomed in the middle of the spaceport, his towering frame impossible to miss.

His dusky, inked skin gleamed under the harsh light, his muscles rippling as he pounded his fists on several unlucky thugs.

Samira arched a brow. ‘That him?’

Kisan jerked his chin. ‘’Tis. Thefokkeris only happy when he’s choke-slamming dill holes spine-first into the ground.’

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